Throughout early history, millions of mothers managed parenthood with little more than a breast and a blanket. But what our ancestors lacked in research, technology and, well, general comfort, they made up for in something we can’t claim today: extended families—people who watch over their children, impart wisdom and, easily word, fair. show up
Today, societies are more complex. We live geographically further away from our relatives, and we all struggle completely with juggling our own families, thriving careers and domestic responsibilities. With more pressure than ever, some of us are forced to raise our families alone, either by choice or as a result of separation, isolation or location. It’s something few parents talk about, but, for millions of people, raising a child without the support of extended family can create enormous challenges. It is also incredibly affirming.
I moved from Australia about 10 years ago in one of those cliched situations where wanderlust got me. A 12-month trip turned into “another 12 months” over the next however many years. Suddenly, I found myself committed to and paying my fair share of a mortgage. At first, it was not noticeable; life just happens as it inevitably happens.
Then our son came. (Actually, he showed up eight weeks early, in the middle of a global pandemic.) Those first few months were particularly difficult, as our baby struggled to feed and gain weight. Meanwhile, my partner and I faced the usual challenges of early parenthood. What’s more, we do it alone.
This is not an unfamiliar story. Across the United States, thousands of families are raising children alone or with very little support for a variety of reasons—and many have no choice but to go ahead and find out. The fact that I had a choice became my sticking point. However, I wonder if I am deliberately depriving my family by living far from loved ones? My networks are small because of the decisions I’ve made—but does my child need them, too?
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However, in light of the pandemic, returning to Australia is not an option. We are isolated, out of touch and watching our son’s gorgeous little personality without the family audience he deserves. We were trying to define what a family away from home might look like, but it became clear that there was a void we wanted to fill. We know we didn’t needed an extended family, but we started out desperate like one.
It was the little things that started to matter. Here we are with a baby, teaching newly arrived grandparents how to FaceTime in an attempt to create as much of a virtual family as we can. We didn’t have a babysitter, we couldn’t call family for advice in the same time zone and we befriended strangers on the playground to cultivate a sense of community. I never thought I’d say this, but in those early days I began to see how important it was to have someone—even an uninvited mother-in-law (or, heck, the mailman!)—show up and watch our son in the bath me for a long time I thought: Would having these things create a calmer home? Would I be a better mother with visible support?
The date nights my mom’s friends were telling me about started to inspire a little envy. Sometimes my friends even go to a spa or spend the afternoon shopping while their parents or siblings are on childcare duty. After a few hours, they will come back refreshed and motivated. Meanwhile, my attempt at a spa involved a 15-minute bath with good body wash while my son sleeps. I know it won’t always be this way, but, in these moments, it feels like eternity.
Worse than the lack of available support and lack of me-time, is the lack of general investment from the people around us. Sure, our friends want our son to thrive—but will they change their plans when our son’s school announces the dates for his birth? Will they frame our child’s finger painting masterpieces? I had to reframe my thinking to realize that while having a personalized fanclub for our son would be awesome, it wasn’t important to make sure he loved.
Raising a child without a family taught me that you can be independent and capable as a parent, but at the same time need and want to surround yourself with others you can lean on for comfort and support. Recognizing this doesn’t mean you can’t handle the demands of parenthood—it just means that a desire for social connection can be comfortably lived out with self-satisfaction. Either way, as the brilliant resilient mothers that we are, we can and will cope. We just need to trust our own decisions and believe in our own abilities—perhaps more than parents of children who regularly spend time with grandparents and relatives.
Naturally, my partner and I began to wonder if keeping this distance was the best thing for our son. This discussion is ongoing. In the meantime, let this be a shout out to the families who lift us up, the neighbors who walk through the door to help, the friends we call family and the siblings who are on standby with real-time advice.
Living around the corner—or even in the same suburb, country or time zone—as loved ones is an enviable privilege. But if you are a parent raising a child away from family, know that you are all your child. Never second guess your parenting skills, no matter how hard it is. All of you Really you need a chest and a blanket to make your child feel love. Finding connection and feeling supported on this rollercoaster journey is, without a doubt, important, but knowing that your child is thriving because of you is beyond fulfillment.
About the author: Hannah Silverman is a freelance writer and mom to a toddler, with a second cutie. With a bachelor’s degree in journalism and more than 17 years of experience in international media, she specializes in producing articles on parenting and women’s health. She is passionate about celebrating all children, normalizing the quirks of parenting life and banishing mom guilt for good.
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